


Black Screen

by NanakiBH



Category: OFF (Game)
Genre: Banter, Blood, M/M, Post-Canon, Rough Sex, unusual anatomy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 21:16:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5180024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NanakiBH/pseuds/NanakiBH
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a moment marked by held breath, Zacharie watched, eyes widening, as The Batter let go of his bat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Screen

**Author's Note:**

> I'm late to the party, but I'm here now. I love writing this type of story and OFF makes it so easy. I'm really happy about that.

The switch had been pulled.

It was off.

“Are they gone now?” he asked, simply curious.

Though he must not have expected anyone to be there, The Batter turned around without a hint of surprise to regard him. “ _They?_ ” he asked, seeking clarification.

Zacharie approached, taking leisurely steps across the white room.

“Come now, my handsome Batter, you know who I'm talking about,” he said, finally giving a laugh. “The puppeteer. The one who was controlling you. The person who was playing this game. They've gone now, haven't they? I believe that's why they allowed you to flip that switch. The story's over now. The script has ended.”

“I'm still here,” The Batter said. Though there was still no confusion in his voice, it was evident that he was uncertain what to do with that realization.

Zacharie crossed his arms, tilted his head. “Of course you are,” he said, matter-of-fact. “What did you think would happen? You aren't Schrodinger's Protagonist. You aren't going to disappear if the game is turned off.”

All along, he thought he'd been clear. He thought that The Batter would have understood the position he was in, his existence, his meaning. In the end, it seemed that he had only grasped his purpose and had charged ahead, fulfilling it to a remarkable if not exhaustive degree.

He purified. He purified. He purified.

He purified.

Until everyone was gone.

Complete.

“Game... Hm.” The Batter muttered to himself, mouth set in a line.

He glanced back over his shoulder at the switch on the wall as if wondering whether he could reverse it all by turning it back on. But such a thought probably didn't exist in his head. Though an interesting idea, Zacharie was certain that The Batter felt no remorse for his actions. What he had done was his duty, moved by the hand of the player, and he was not to be blamed. The people he erased existed only for as long as the player had been playing the game.

Why would he feel sorry for removing some people he barely knew?

They weren't even people at all.

“What do I do now? I don't have anyone controlling me.” His eyes shined as he tapped the end of his bat against the floor. Those eyes turned to Zacharie. “You're human, aren't you?”

“Hm? What's that? Are you asking me if I'd like to play with you, Batter?” Loudly, Zacharie laughed. Even if he knew there was nothing to fear, he imagined The Batter snapping his head off with those large jaws. Noticing the intimidatingly expressionless stare of The Batter, he proceeded in a more serious manner, minding his words. “I'm just as much a part of this game as you are. I'm not here to play it.”

Without a hand to guide him, The Batter was stuck in place. His feet hadn't moved an inch from the wall.

He tugged the end of his cap down to shield his face. “I'm done, though. I'm still here, but for what end?”

“So you can start over, of course,” Zacharie said, crossing over the remaining tiles between them. He placed a hand on The Batter's shoulder to force him to look at him. “It's fun. I get to watch you do it all over again. Although-” His smile faltered behind the permanent grin of his mask as he recalled his few friends who had fallen to the bat that was now held limply in The Batter's right hand. “Some parts aren't fun for me, but it's part of the experience. I'm used to it.”

“You talk as if you've been here before, Zacharie.”

That was because he had. Countless times. Witnessing the decisions of countless players.

“You should be happy,” he said. Turning around, he began to walk back the way he came, expecting The Batter to follow. “Your job is never finished, but it's done for now. Have yourself a rest.”

After ten paces and silence, Zacharie stopped.

“You don't want to get out of here?”

“And go where?” The Batter asked.

Back straight, Zacharie chuckled. “I don't know. But this place isn't very interesting anymore, is it? Unless you enjoy staring at plain white walls, you should come with me. Let's have fun, my friend.”

The silence wasn't prolonged. As soon as he heard the sound of footsteps behind him, Zacharie began to walk again. Because he could be anywhere at any time, there wasn't any need to move quickly. The world wasn't going to change around them, besides. With everything brought to a stand-still, it was acceptable to move at any pace. Only the threat of a new game settled somewhere just around his awareness.

Bearing the weight of his heavy backpack over his shoulders, Zacharie led The Batter through door after door, hall after hall, toward the world map, to the access points of the Zones. All activity within the Zones may have stopped, but they remained as shells, though blank white and devoid of movement.

“Where are we going?” The Batter finally asked after much walking.

They were already there.

Slowing his pace, Zacharie walked next to him. “Don't you recognize Zone 2?” He chuckled to himself, the sound dampened by his mask. “Perhaps you wouldn't. Where are all the frightened and nervous voices of the Elsens? This dreadful place with all of its potential to be exciting is anything but now. What a shame! If the Elsens were here, they would have finally felt safe. What a shame indeed!”

“I don't like what you're implying, merchant.”

Zacharie patted his shoulder, testing The Batter's patience. “It's fine. I'm just talking. I'm not blaming you for any of this. Even if it were you who wanted to return everything to nothing, reveling gleefully as crimson collected on your bat, it was your _duty._ I, for one, am impressed by your passion for your job. You have to be passionate if you intend to make a living.”

He was quiet again. Zacharie could tell that he was thinking.

It was good that he knew exactly the words to tell him. The Batter was a spring-loaded trap.

The Batter continued to follow him silently as he led him through the deserted Zone 2, walking him around the route he would take when he was selling his wares. He never got a lot of business in Zone 2, though, because the residents were too afraid that there might be sharp things in his pack. He earned few credits from his footwork there, but he enjoyed the silence at times. There was no price for silence.

But it seemed that his exchanges with The Batter had bought it for him. All it took was one item here, another there.

He didn't know whether to be happy. That was just the way things were – good, bad, or none of the above.

“Are you getting restless?” Zacharie asked. The Batter hadn't spoken a single word the entire time they were in the mall. Once they were outside again with the roller coaster looming over them in the near distance, he slowed his feet. The Batter also, thankfully, came to a slow stop beside him.

His bat dangled from his hand in a backwards grip, looking more like a security blanket than the divine tool of purification it had been.

“Maybe I am,” he said, like he'd just realized it for himself when questioned. Turning the bat around in his hand, he held it out in front of himself horizontally and stared at it. A moment passed and he lowered it again, shaking his head. “I was thinking about what you said. You never answered me. I would've felt more frustrated by it and demanded that you answer if I felt like I had work to do and no time to spare, but now all I have is time. I'm in no rush. What you said could probably go without explanation and I might even be better off without knowing, but I feel it festering inside of me already; the desire to know.”

Humming, Zacharie stroked his chin. He felt like playing coy, wanted to lay his head in the beast's mouth.

“Which thing are you talking about, now?”

“We've had this conversation before.” Straight to the point. “Don't play dumb with me.”

Amused, Zacharie clapped his hands and laughed. “I was right. You do sound restless.”

A clawed fist shot out and grasped him by the neck, hoisting him clean off the floor. It was an unusual sensation like floating; toes barely touching the ground, his body supported by something much stronger than himself. There was no malice in the two large eyes that stared at him, only a sense of expectancy. The Batter wanted a clear answer from him and was willing to crush his throat for it.

When he tried to respond, what came from his mouth was nothing but a gargled choke, so The Batter released him, letting him fall to the ground as an unceremonious tangle of human matter.

Before Zacharie could give an answer, he took off his backpack and unzipped it, giving it a quick look-through to make sure that nothing had been broken in his fall. He could feel The Batter watching him, but his patience persisted until Zacharie was finished with his check.

Zacharie wasn't afraid.

“If I kill you, would you come back eventually?” The Batter asked calmly, the tether of his self-control pulled taut. “Is there another you?”

“I don't know,” Zacharie replied, zipping up his pack, pulling it over his shoulders as he stood. “You've never killed me before.”

At first, that seemed incomprehensible to The Batter, but his features relaxed into his usual neutral expression. “That makes sense. You don't need to be purified. You don't have any stakes in this world.”

He sounded disappointed.

His hands were dying to swing that bat again. It was violent, but that was his purpose, and Zacharie couldn't help but feel disappointed that he couldn't offer him his life to restore his sense of inner peace. Killing him would provide The Batter with nothing. And then there really wouldn't be anyone anymore. And Zacharie wasn't sure if he would be able to come back like the others.

And then he didn't know what would become of The Batter.

But it was all scripted.

No, he was sure he would return.

“I don't think that anything here is as bad as it seems. You purified everything because you were supposed to. There was no other way to reach the end of the game-”

“I know that much. That's not the part that bothers me.” He came closer, and, for a second, Zacharie expected him to grab him again. Instead, he just stood there, looking down at him, inspecting him. “I want to know why you're able to remember what happens. That's the part that bothered me the whole time... Through the whole game.”

It was something of a relief to finally hear him calling it what it was.

Zacharie sighed, shifting the weight around on his back. Standing still with it wasn't very comfortable. “Well. You said it yourself. Knowing everything won't make you happy.”

“Can you say that with certainty?”

“I can.”

“If I'm unaware, I'll still be unsatisfied.”

“Yes. But knowing makes you even more unhappy. This is still a part of the game too, you know. It's the part you're never told about; the machine behind the curtains. You're going to have to manage your own happiness.”

With that, he kept going. It was getting too difficult to stand still any longer with the backpack putting an ache in his back.

“Zacharie...”

Without looking back, Zacharie waved for him to follow, heading from the entrance of the amusement park to the roller coaster not too far away. As a traveling merchant, he didn't have a specific place he called home, but he felt an attachment to his park. Its workings were too exciting for the Elsens who had populated the area, but he was happy just knowing that it was there, that it was his, and that an exciting, fun place existed within their drab world. Their creator was at least a little considerate.

He pushed open the fence, admitting The Batter ahead of him.

“Let's ride the roller coaster together,” he said, pointing up at it.

The Batter narrowed his eyes. “Are you sure we can do that when there's no one else here to operate it?”

“It's fine. We've done it before.”

The Batter was silent again. Clearly, it bothered him when he mentioned things that he was unable to recall.

Sensing that he wasn't in the mood to ride the roller coaster yet, Zacharie took a seat at one of the chairs outside the ride's entrance and gratefully took off his backpack. Wordlessly, The Batter turned around a chair and sat across from him. Leaning down, Zacharie opened his backpack again and rummaged through it, looking for a particular item of relevance.

“Aha, here it is,” he said, proudly pulling the photograph from within the pack's depths. Its corners were somewhat crumpled, but it fortunately hadn't been torn. “If we ride it, I'll have a real picture of us riding it together.”

The Batter leaned forward to have a look at the photo. He was the one who had sold it to him, so he must have recognized it. It was the photo The Batter had taken at the park when he rode the roller coaster beside his statue.

“So you still have it. You payed me quite a bit for that thing. Does it mean something to you?”

“Ha ha ho! That's a real hard-hitting question! As expected of The Batter.” Zacharie clutched the photo to his chest protectively. “Yes! Of course it's important to me! More important than my beautiful credits!”

“Um...”

He knew that he couldn't make The Batter remember things from other instances of the game. There was a slight feeling of loneliness in his chest at that thought, realizing that the person he spoke to was never the same twice.

Struck with an idea, he held out the photograph for The Batter to see, turning it around in his hands, and pointed at him in the picture. “Tell me, Batter. What do you see?”

“What is it this time?”

“Won't you humor me? Tell me what you see in this photograph of you and my statue.”

The Batter lifted his chin and stared at him right in the eyes, a dark shadow across the top half of his face. “You just said it. It's a picture of me and ...a statue of you... riding the roller coaster together. Somehow, you look like you're having more fun than I am, even though you were just a statue.”

“Yes, but,” he insistently tapped his finger over the image of The Batter. “Describe yourself.”

Frustrated with his questions, The Batter stood, quick enough that his chair was almost knocked over. “This is ridiculous. I can't believe I'm alone here with a guy like you.”

Zacharie tried not to laugh, but a little giggle slipped out. “Hey, you're the one who made it this way. Why don't you try killing me? Things might be more interesting that way. Even I would be interested in knowing what happens.”

Not really.

Once again, The Batter considered his weapon.

In a moment marked by held breath, Zacharie watched, eyes widening, as The Batter let go of his bat.

Immediately, he shot up from his seat. His feet stumbled over his backpack and his hands gripped the photograph tightly. “H-hey, wait a minute! If you do that, what am I supposed to call you?”

Eyes closed, The Batter removed his hat and ran a hand through his hair, then placed it back on his head. He stood still for a minute; sixty seconds of mounting anxiety. “Am I my purpose?” he asked.

“That's...”

“Are you just a merchant? Since we came here, you haven't sold me anything but conversation. Who are you?”

“I...”

He was really sweating. He wasn't used to being asked the questions. Beyond the ending, there weren't any answers for them – only the silence that seemed to go on endlessly until another player picked it up and began the cycle again. Even then, at any moment, it could start again.

Maybe he'd finally screwed it up.

“Zacharie.” Suddenly he was very close. Zacharie's eyes were unfocused, though. He couldn't look up. Panic pressured his heart to work harder. The Batter's face was an inch away. “What do I look like to you?”

His fingers were on fire, his palms burning with foolish curiosity. It possessed him, making him lift his shaking hands, pulling them up to The Batter's face. Letting out a laugh that sounded small and hysterical, he touched his face, sliding his fingers across what might've been a cheek, swept them over his snout, played his fingertips lightly over the dangerously sharp points of his glistening, exposed teeth.

“I don't know what to tell you, friend. You look like you to me.”

“You can't tell me who I am?” The Batter asked.

Zacharie felt something touch his waist and wrenched his eyes away from The Batter's monstrous visage to find one of his large, clawed hands resting over his hip. His fingers were long enough to encompass his entire waist. Hands like those could probably squeeze the life right out of him if he didn't speak carefully, he thought.

“I think I can show you,” he said daringly, knowing that he was staking his life on the confidence of his voice.

He could feel The Batter's hot breath on his face. He deliberated for a moment, and then the long tongue between his rows of innumerable teeth unfurled. It lolled out the side of his mouth as he gave Zacharie's mask a good sniff, then he licked the side of his face, swiping it from his neck to his forehead, going right over his mask, covering it in slobber.

“Ah ha ha... You're a good kisser,” Zacharie praised, drool dripping off his chin. “Yes. That's what you are.”

Provoking him worked.

The hand around his waist tightened its grip and forced him to the ground, knocking him against the dry ground so hard that it thrust the breath right out of him. The photograph he'd been holding fell from his fingers and fluttered to the ground somewhere. He heard The Batter snarl, and, before he could get out another word of his own, The Batter hooked his claws under the front of his sweater and tore it open.

“Hey! I really liked this sweater!” he yelled. “Where am I supposed to get another sweater with a cute heart on it now?”

The Batter glared at him, jaws agape. “The whole mall's yours now.”

“Oh yeah...”

Similarly, his pants were torn to shreds. It was a good thing there was no one else around anymore or they would've been in a rather awkward position. The Elsens would've been very afraid.

The Batter crouched over him and his tongue was introduced to other parts of him, beginning at his stomach. It rolled around the soft meat of his belly, then he stopped to snuffle in the dip of his stomach. For a second, Zacharie began to sweat harder, fearing that he was getting ready to eat him. But The Batter was a purifier. He wasn't a cannibal. As far as he knew.

He felt those teeth scraping his skin and tried not to look, balling his hands into fists at his sides as his dear patron taste-tested him. His body was responding to the heat of his tongue with pure adrenaline.

He was hard.

The Batter planted his hands over Zacharie's arms, pinning them to the ground. If he'd been thinking more clearly, he might not have left himself so open, but it was too late and regret was a waste of energy. Instead, he chose to enjoy himself. After all, he was getting what he wanted whether The Batter was aware or not. It didn't seem like he was trying to harm him, at least. It was hard to tell with a face so stoic, but he might've been enjoying himself as well.

Just as he was beginning to like the feeling of him laving his tongue over his chest, it disappeared. Zacharie lifted his head and got the barest glimpse of him before he slammed his head back against the ground, feeling that tongue wrapping around him. The Batter's jaws opened wide and his teeth pressed into the sensitive undersides of his thighs, but the warmth of his breath between his legs was more than enough to distract Zacharie from any peripheral pain.

Zacharie wondered if he could taste his fear.

The teeth digging into his thighs eased back and blood followed them, pooling into The Batter's mouth. It was greedily lapped up and the marks he'd pressed into his skin were cleaned with a few more licks.

“Hey... Pal...” He tried to lift one of his hands, but The Batter still had them firmly pinned. Those hands grasped his arms and lifted him, forcing him to turn over onto his front.

His mask scraping the ground, he turned his head slightly as The Batter moved up to nose at his neck from behind.

“ _Pal?_ Is that who I am? Is this what a friend is?”

There were no truths.

“Ha ha... Yes. This is what you are.”

Something touched his backside and he lost his breath again. He couldn't turn his neck far enough to see what was happening, but there was little mystery in his mind. Though he hadn't seen it for himself, he knew what it was from the heat and shape of it. It was large, but rested comfortably in the curve of his backside. The Batter rubbed against him, pressing him down with his hands. It might've been the sort of shape he expected, but it had a strange texture to it.

Bumps? Barbs? Maybe both.

As he moved against him, Zacharie could feel that its shape became wider at the base, and he instinctively swallowed, fearing for what was going to come.

He was weak by no means, but he lacked the imperative to escape, even as he felt The Batter pressing the end of it up against his entrance. It was so thick, even at the tip. It felt like he was trying to shove a bat up there. A part of him wanted to jokingly accuse him of that, but thought and speech became temporarily impossible as The Batter thrust inside.

All at once, it went in, gouging through him like a spear.

There was only the thick saliva left behind to ease its entry, but that entry could hardly be called easy. It made Zacharie howl loudly, though the sound wasn't entirely one of agony. It sounded too suspiciously euphoric to be a scream of pain. All too soon, he felt him pulling back, and its rough texture aggravated the scratched-up walls of his insides.

He almost came.

“H-hey, could you do me a favor, Batter?” he asked, trying to flex the feeling back into his arms beneath The Batter's hold.

The Batter released a breath over the back of his neck that made him shiver. “It's going to cost you. How about you show me the color of your credits?”

Ah, sweet irony.

His business was a bit meaningless if it were just him and The Batter left. Thousands of credits were just laying about for the taking. Zacharie's own meaning had about as much meaning as those meaningless credits.

He'd never felt strictly bound to the role the game gave him, however. He could just as easily fill the role of The Judge. If he just handed The Batter a mask, perhaps...

“Hm hm. I see. If it's credits you want, I'll give you everything I've got. All I ask is that you treat me as roughly as you possibly can. Really go hard. Don't hold back, okay?”

The Batter was learning how to play along with him. That was the turning point Zacharie always anticipated. The gleeful chuckle he heard from behind made his heart pound fiercely against his ribs. His arms were released and The Batter's large hands encircled his waist, lifting him up with little effort as he pulled him up into sitting with him, slamming him right down onto his lap. Tears sprung to Zacharie's eyes and a shout tore loudly from his throat, but his hips burned with pleasure as he was torn open by The Batter's massive size.

His thighs ached with each movement and he was sure that he was going to have bruises all over his body after the rough way The Batter had thrown him about, but he was in love with it.

This was The Batter. This was who he was, too. He was glad that there were no definitions and boundaries.

In the bizarre stillness that followed a completed game, they were unexplainable monsters with futures that looked suspiciously like their pasts.

“C'mon. Harder,” he gasped hoarsely, gripping the hands that held him.

The Batter was going to pulverize him. And he didn't even need a bat to do it.

“Funny. I thought you were the least crazy person around here. The bar must have been really low because I still think you aren't the worst.” The Batter's voice was also beginning to sound rough. He pulled Zacharie up and plunged him back down, pushing into him deeply, reaching a place that made him convulse, struck by a stab of sudden pleasure.

Once he recovered, Zacharie tried to catch his breath. “Who's the craziest, then?”

“That guy in the photo.”

“Ah ha ha! Yes! Yes, that's it! This is why I like you!” It was a relief to hear his humor returning.

With The Batter's hands around his waist, he couldn't touch himself, but that wasn't a huge concern to him. The hot white light of ecstasy had been trying to overwhelm him from the beginning. The relentless pounding he was receiving was exactly what he had asked for and he wasn't being disappointed in the least. The Batter knew how to give his best when it was necessary.

Taking just a short glance down, Zacharie noticed the puddle of blood forming beneath him. A little more flecked out each time The Batter chaotically thrust his hips upward into him. It should have turned his stomach, but it was comforting to see some color in the world again. That thick red made The Batter's thrusts easier, made the sharp barbs along his length drag a little less and slide more evenly. Before long, the pain was almost completely eclipsed by a pleasure that coiled in his belly like a hungry serpent.

Without warning, it struck, and he doubled over, his vision becoming white for a moment. He would have collapsed if it weren't for The Batter's hands sturdily holding him up. Even with his senses shadowed by the fierce light, The Batter continued to thrust into him, working him past the point of oversensitivity. It felt like he was trying to punish him, which was good..

Just when the tremors in his own body began to subside, The Batter's monstrous girth began to pulse inside of him. He held Zacharie more tightly around his waist and rested his chin over his shoulder, closing his eyes. As he continued throbbing within him, Zacharie lifted a weak arm and stroked his snout and quietly praised him.

When he was finished with him, The Batter pushed him off and stood.

Zacharie scrambled to retrieve his shredded articles of clothing. Piece by piece, he gathered them in his hands and hung his head, admitting defeat. There was no way they could be salvaged. His favorite sweater was ruined. He felt a little better knowing that he would see it again, but that meant losing everything else he'd gained. One sweater was a small price in the grand scheme of things.

“Hey,” The Batter said, extending a hand toward him.

Zacharie looked up at him. His eyes were drawn to the blood covering The Batter's own clothing and he grimaced. Nonetheless, he placed a hand in the center of his large one and allowed The Batter to pull him to his feet.

The Batter jerked his head over his shoulder toward the direction they'd come from and reached up to adjust his hat. “Your office is around here. Did you keep any extra clothes there? If not... I guess we can always go back to the mall. We've got nothing better to do.”

“No, it's fine. I do. I've got extra clothes there and extra masks.” He touched the sticky side of his mask. The saliva had nearly dried. “Going to have to find something for you, though. That can be my repayment for the fine job you did for me. You have my thanks, friend.”

“Right...” The Batter chuckled and shook his head. “You should've told me that from the beginning. Things might not have had to end up like this.”

“They would have,” Zacharie said confidently. It happened a lot. Not always, but if he played his cards right, then he would become the beast tamer.

The Batter didn't question him anymore. He just started off the way they came.

As The Batter's back retreated ahead of him, Zacharie hastily picked up his things, shoving the photograph back into his pack, and pulled the backpack's straps over his shoulders. As he hustled after him, he made sure to pick up the bat.


End file.
